


Rewritten by Machine on New Technology

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Everyone's kind of slutty in this except maybe Leo, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Open Relationships, Sex Tapes, Size Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: "So when we came back here to Thailand, I helped Ciao Ciao move, right?""Sure?""So I helped him pack boxes, and he had some old VHS tapes, and I figured--I figured they were all his old routines? You know, and I'd get them digitized, and we'd laugh about his old costumes and it'd be fun?"Celestino's old costumes had been pretty terrible. Skating suffered in the grunge era. "Okay, so what's the problem? Did he catch you in his closet or something?"Please tell me you didn't find his vibrator.It was too early in the morning for Yuuri to have to deal with Celestino's vibrator."They'resex tapes,Yuuri."*Phichit tries to do his coach a favor and makes his life infinitely more complicated.





	Rewritten by Machine on New Technology

"Okay, so what if you made a bad choice." Phichit sounded breathless. 

"Are you--" Yuuri blinked the sleep from his eyes. Victor's face was turned away, his breathing still steady; he hadn’t woken up, then. Good. Yuuri grabbed for his glasses and got out of bed. His phone read...no, Yuuri wasn’t thinking about what time it was. Phichit needed him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm--I'm not in jail or anything? I'm safe? I'm just--I sort of did something stupid."

"Okay..." Yuuri slid his glasses on and carefully shut the bedroom door behind him. Makkachin was on the couch; he gently moved her head so he could sit. She whined a little, but her head settled back on his thighs without a major protest. "What kind of stupid?"

"I--Yuuri, I swear to you I was trying to be nice. I _swear."_

Yuuri scratched the back of Makkachin's head and waited.

"So when we came back here to Thailand, I helped Ciao Ciao move, right?"

"Sure?"

"So I helped him pack boxes, and he had some old VHS tapes, and I figured--I figured they were all his old routines? You know, and I'd get them digitized, and we'd laugh about his old costumes and it'd be fun?"

Celestino's old costumes had been pretty terrible. Skating suffered in the grunge era. "Okay, so what's the problem? Did he catch you in his closet or something?" _Please tell me you didn't find his vibrator._ It was too early in the morning for Yuuri to have to deal with Celestino's vibrator.

"They're _sex tapes,_ Yuuri."

Yuuri's brain hit a brick wall. "...I-- they're--no."

"Yes."

 _What kind of sex tapes?_ Yuuri thought, and bit his tongue before he actually _asked._ "So...you can't just sneak them back and pretend you never saw them?"

"Yuuri," Phichit said, his voice very serious. "If you had seen _our coach_ gangbanged by the three 1992 Olympic medalists in singles, one ice dancer, and two pair skaters, would _you_ be able to pretend you never saw them?"

Yuuri stuffed the back of his free hand in his mouth, trying to ignore how much of Makkachin's hair had stuck to his skin, and counted to ten. "Gangbanged," he said, when he could speak again.

"It's _high quality video,"_ Phichit said, as Yuuri discreetly tried to cough hair out of his mouth. "I recognized them _all._ And the skaters in the _other_ tapes." He sighed. "I can't--he's _hung,_ Yuuri. He was _so hot,_ and he’s so...How am I even going to _look_ at him tomorrow?"

"In the eye?"

_"How?"_

"Don't things...shrink as you get older?"

"That does _not_ help, Yuuri Katsuki, and we both know it." 

It really didn’t. Celestino had never looked _bad._ He’d been pretty good-looking in his old performances. Yuuri always had liked tall guys. So had Phichit, when it came to that.

Three Olympic medalists. Celestino had been in two Olympics... “Which year?” he asked, hating himself for it.

“1992,” Phichit said, and oh, shit, that went to Yuuri’s dick. That was the year Pascal Richert had competed. There had been a _lot_ of rumors about Celestino and the French silver medalist. They just hadn’t included so many _other_ people.

“Maybe you should just...tell him you’re sick tomorrow. Give yourself a break.”

“I need to work on my triple axel,” Phichit said. 

“You’re the one who said you couldn’t look at him!”

“Maybe I’ll say I hurt my eye and need sunglasses.”

“Well. It’s just one tape, right?”

Silence.

“Phichit-kun? How many tapes are there?”

“I--I’m not sure. I converted them all but some of them might actually be routines? They just--he didn’t put anything on them but dates! They might be old Italian TV programs!”

“How many have you looked at?”

“Four,” Phichit said, wretched.

“And they’re all--”

“Yeah.”

“Are they...long? Like, is this--” What was he even asking?

“I’m not sure,” Phichit said. “The...the gangbang one’s pretty long. And there’s more clips after that. But..same guys. So, I don’t know, maybe they’re organized by--”

“Well, dates, right? So maybe competitions?” He put his free hand back in Makkachin’s fur, and she made a deep little noise of contentment. Dogs were so simple. They didn’t expect you to read their minds or win gold medals. They didn’t digitize their coach’s sex tapes and then call their best friends in the middle of the night to ask the worst possible person for advice.

“I hadn’t thought of that, yeah, probably.” That seemed to give Phichit a little focus. Yuuri could hear computer keys clicking in the background. “So--yeah, that works. So probably any of these on those dates are...well, either competition film or a sex tape. Probably not Italian TV.” He sighed. “What am I doing?”

“Cross-referencing your coach’s sex tapes,” Yuuri said, before he could stop himself.

“He used to be really hot,” Phichit said. “Is he still hot? He’s...Ciao Ciao.”

“I always liked the ponytail,” Yuuri confessed, because it was turning into that kind of night.

“I know about you and ponytails.”

Yuuri laughed, and it felt a little like the old days, with Yuuri and his Victor fixation and Phichit obsessing over whoever had caught his attention last. “I wish you weren’t so far away sometimes.”

“Me too. You’ll have to come visit after I beat you at Worlds.”

It _definitely_ felt like the old days. “You’re going to wait a long time for that.”

 

Celestino was older, and not as fit as he had been, but his shoulders were broad, and he was tall, and okay, the ponytail was pretty nice. (He'd kept his hair, too. Phichit thought about his chest in the video, the trail of hair over and past his navel...)

Phichit looked at the floor. He wondered, for a hot, stressed second, if Yuuri felt like this all the time.

Probably not. But maybe during those first few confused weeks with Victor, when--according to rumor and what Phichit had pieced together, Yuuri certainly hadn’t said much--Victor essentially threw himself at Yuuri while Yuuri tried to remember how to breathe. His sister Mari had said the first time had been in the hot springs. 

Victor probably _did_ have sex tapes, somewhere.

"Are you ready, Phichit?"

Right. Ice time. "Sure," Phichit said. "Sorry, I--" He shook his head. "Long night last night. I'll be better tomorrow."

"You'll have to be," Celestino said. "We're less than a month from Worlds. You need to stay focused."

Phichit nodded. Had Celestino been focused when he let--

 _No._ He had to stop thinking about that. Had to stop thinking about the way his mouth had opened, the way he--

He forced himself to breathe as the music started. This year's SP song was something different; still light, but focused on change. He probably had more of his career behind him than ahead of him, at least competing at this level. He had to start thinking about his future beyond competition. His skating shows. A whole lifetime to look forward to--

Without Celestino.

Though maybe he'd stay in Thailand, now. He had students. He'd lived all over the world but it'd probably be nice to have somewhere you could call home. Someone to come home to.

Celestino had always been nice to him. Kind. Encouraging. Like you would be with a student, or a kid. He _was_ a kid to Celestino. He was still younger than Celestino had been in that one tape, the one with the hockey player that started with Celestino on his knees, and--

 _Stop._

When he made it to the ice, it was easier. He pushed himself, hard enough that he could stop thinking, even with a routine that he knew like the back of his hand. He'd always been able to lose himself on the ice. 

It was just when he stepped back off that it all rushed back in.

"What do you think of the last jump?" Celestino asked, which meant he didn't like it.

"I've never had as much stamina as Yuuri," Phichit said. "I think we need to keep it a triple."

"What about upgrading it to an axel, then?"

"I can try it," he said. "Do you want to see--"

Celestino nodded.

He skated back out to center ice and started over. As he started, he glanced over. Celestino's hair had come free of its elastic, and he shook it out--

 

Celestino brought him ice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Phichit said, putting the pack on his throbbing knee. "I told you, I was just--just tired."

"You've been tired before," Celestino said, sitting close to him. Too close. "I think--" He put his hand up against Phichit's forehead. "Are you coming down with something?"

"I'm fine," Phichit croaked. "Just--I'll be fine tomorrow." Probably. Maybe. Was it better or worse when Celestino touched him? His hands were _huge._ How had he not noticed?

"This isn't like you," he said.

It wasn't. "I'm sorry. I really will be better tomorrow."

"Okay," he said. "But if you're not--"

"I'll take care of myself, I promise." He smiled at Celestino, to try to reassure him. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

Celestino put an arm around Phichit, and Phichit felt a lump rise in his throat. He shoved his hands in his lap. 

He could say something. Maybe he should. _Are you busy tonight? Do you want to go to dinner? Do you like short guys? Would you like me?_

_I'm sorry I saw your dick, I swear I was trying to--_

"Phichit." He squeezed his shoulder. "Are you sure you're all right?"

He leaned into Celestino's shoulder. Celestino had always been warm. Comforting. He _smelled_ good. 

Phichit wanted to bury his face in Celestino's shoulder, nuzzle his neck, kiss his collarbone. He couldn't stop thinking about his strong hands, his solid jaw.

He'd slept with Westerners before. There were guys who looked at him and saw the stereotype, but he'd found some guys who were okay, even outside skating. None of them had been as big or broad-shouldered as Celestino. Especially not...below the waist.

"Should we take a walk?"

"No!" he said. "No. I mean. Thank you. But I think we should just...call it a day. I'll be better tomorrow. I'll be focused."

"If you're sure," he said, and squeezed Phichit's shoulder. "But promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

"I promise," he said.

 

Night fell, and Phichit was still struggling with the question: How to seduce a crazy tall Italian with a giant dick who was old enough to be your father? Who, in addition to that, was your _coach,_ and had been since you were seventeen, and might be worried about fucking his professional career up for life if he crossed the line with a student?

Phichit knew he was cute, but _cute_ didn't always cut it. Plenty of skaters had good bodies and bright smiles and good butts. Plenty of skaters were fun. Celestino had always liked him, he knew that. But _like_ wasn't _want._ _Want_ wasn't enough to potentially fuck up your career.

Pascal Richert had been in more of the videos than anyone else. He was still coaching, mostly ice dancers. In videos he was still cute, bright smile and good body and good butt. He was tall and pale, though. If Celestino had a type, it was probably guys like him, not Phichit. ( _But there aren't many Thai skaters, even now. The Japanese skaters didn't even have a good foothold until the nineties. So maybe..._ )

He looked up old interviews. Richert was outgoing, and smart, which was kind of promising. He had an Insta account, though he didn't use it for much.

Phichit had the DM window open before he'd even thought it through. _Hey, I know you and Celestino knew each other when you were competing. I’m one of his skaters now--I was wondering if I could ask you something?_

He put his phone down, fed his hamsters, took a shower. 

He had an answer. _Depends on what. <3 <3 <3_

Well, shit. Was Ciao Ciao fuckbuddies with his decade's Christophe Giacometti? 

He'd thought up a decent lie in the shower, at least. _I'm trying to think of a surprise for his birthday. I was thinking maybe something from the old days? But I want a good memory, not a bad one._

That was safe. A lot of careers ended badly. He wouldn't want to bring up bad memories. And maybe Richert was the kind of guy who'd share _all_ the good memories. 

_You want something safe for work? ;-)_

_Whatever you've got that might make him happy._

_It's been a long time. Not sure I still know._

_I'm just looking for ideas. I promise you won't be my only source._ Phichit was half-hard. What the hell was wrong with him?

Oh, yes. He'd almost forgotten. He'd watched this guy come on Ciao Ciao's face, and Ciao Ciao licking the come off. He put his hand in his lap and adjusted himself. 

_Okay. Well, he really liked..._

 

Richert told good stories. He’d also sent Phichit a playlist and a video. It wasn't porn, though Phichit noted ruefully it had almost certainly been shot on the same video camera as _2/22/94._ Celestino had his hair in pigtails and was obviously, happily drunk. "To youth and beauty!" one of the men--Fabio, maybe?--called out. "Because yours won't last much longer, Celestino."

Celestino said something back in Italian that Phichit couldn't catch, and both men laughed. 

Did Celestino still have friends like this? Would Phichit, ten or twenty years from now? A little part of him wanted to send Yuuri a text, just because, just so he wouldn't be forgotten. It was silly, he knew. Friends grew apart and it wasn't always a bad thing. Celestino probably saw half these guys through coaching. But--it still felt like something was lost there.

This whole thing had been a lot easier when he was just jerking off over videotapes.

He stopped feeling sorry for himself when the three men sitting at the table called to the person holding the camera. "Just put it on the shelf or something," Celestino said. "Look, I'll have all my favorite things, just come here--"

The camera was put down at a weird angle, but you could see the man was handsome. Dark and tall, with curly black hair. Celestino wrapped an arm around his shoulders and told the camera, "And now, everything I love is here. My favorite meal, my favorite wine, my friends, my love--"

He hadn't been in any of the tapes. Phichit was sure he'd never seen the man before, and he wasn’t built like a skater. 

_Sorry, hit send too soon,_ Richert said in his next email. _He and Kunal broke up, not sure what happened. But the rest of the things he says he likes, I think he'll still like them._

Some kind of braised duck, a wine that was revealed to be Daniel Rion Nuits-St.-Georges Aux Vignerondes 1987, and a playlist that was honestly pretty hilarious. (Phichit did like "Rhythm of the Night," though. That one was solid.) 

And a stranger that Phichit found himself more jealous of than the other guys put together, who Phichit couldn't even find in a Google search.

 

Kunal Burkhalter. Born in Switzerland to Swiss and Indian mothers, one was a diplomat, the other a skating coach. Not easy to find, but Leo was good at finding people who weren’t easy to find. _Evia Burkhalter was one of Celestino's coaches,_ he wrote Phichit. _Probably that's how they knew each other? He's an accountant in Pune. Just has Facebook, and it's pretty private. Sorry I couldn't get you more than that._

_Wait, an accountant?!_

Leo showed him the guy's profile picture from Facebook. _Looks like him to me. Kept his looks._

_So Ciao Ciao's boyfriend from his slutty days is an accountant now?_

Wait-- _Slutty days?_

Phichit took too long to answer. _I heard some stuff._

Leo went along with it, because Phichit was his friend. _Accountants can be slutty. I mean, I've heard. ;-)_

He could tell that Phichit was distracted, because his response was completely serious. _Thanks for looking this up._

_Yeah, no problem. Did you get curious or what?_

_Curious, mostly. I met his ex-wife once. She seemed okay._

So Phichit was going through Celestino's exes. Either he was trying to play matchmaker or--

Slutty days. Huh.

After he got off LINE with Phichit, he searched, just for the hell of it: _Celestino Cialdini sex tape sex rumors._

 

 _You weren't kidding about the slutty days,_ Leo had written. _Your coach could get it._

_What did you look up?_

_Did you know his ex-wife called him a nymphomaniac in the divorce?_

_YOU ARE MAKING THAT UP._

It was a good distraction from what Phichit had been doing, anyway, which was looking at old pictures of Kunal Burkhalter, hating him a little, and wondering if Celestino’s relationship with an Indian guy meant he was open to Thai men too. _A nymphomaniac? Really? Was that all she said?_

_Basically just a lot of stuff about how he couldn't keep it in his pants. He did a lot of 'no comment.' It sounds like they tried to come up with some arrangements and then she just lost patience with him._

_Some people don't like to share._ Phichit knew that from experience. _What about after that?_

_Not much. Some nightclub shots with friends, I think, but he'd retired by then so he wasn't getting as much attention. I could do some more social search if you think it'll help?_

_No, this is a lot. Thank you._

_Anything you want to tell me? ;-)_

Phichit felt mortified. _No. Just thank you._

_Okay. Have fun!_

Phichit gave his phone the finger. He didn't bother responding; he'd catch up with Leo later, when he wasn't trying to make sense of...everything. 

Maybe he'd just watch another video and jerk off. He was starting to have _favorites._

He couldn't keep doing this. It wasn't fair to Ciao Ciao. Or to Phichit himself. He hadn't been to a club since he saw the first clip; he hadn't been able to get out of his own head. He hadn't been able to think of anyone but Celestino. He hadn't really wanted to.

Now he was wondering where Celestino was, who he might be with. Had he stopped screwing around, or was he at a club right now? Maybe one of those classy expatriate bars with dark wood and soft lighting. 

It wasn't hard finding someone who didn't mind you fucking other guys. It was hard to find someone who wanted to stay with you who didn't mind you fucking other guys.

Was that what had happened with Kunal Burkhalter? He couldn't ask _him_ on Insta. They'd never been married, so no salacious divorce records. He just had to wonder.

And be jealous.

Celestino had had a whole life before him. Ex-boyfriend. Ex-wife. He'd been an adult when Phichit was born.

_This isn't going to work._

He had a new message. Not Richert, Ciao Ciao. _How are you feeling?_

 _Better,_ he lied. _Thanks._

_Good. You want me to drop anything off? I'm going to Yaowarat anyway._

_No. Thanks._

What would it be like? To have him...

He missed having someone to come home to. Having someone come home to him. It'd be even nicer to have a real boyfriend, not just a roommate. Someone who would last. 

Too bad he couldn't make a time machine. They would've been perfect for each other if they could just--

No. No, this was stupid. He was Phichit Chulanont. He was a champion skater. He was a pioneer. He was young and strong and he had a _really nice ass._ Any guy would be happy to have him. No matter how old they were or how young Phichit was.

He just needed a plan.

 

It wasn’t Celestino’s birthday and it wasn’t Phichit’s, which probably meant this very nice dinner at Phichit’s very nice apartment was a setup.

He’d gone along with it because Phichit’s surprises were usually enjoyable, sometimes even fun. Once it had been that Krit and Sakchai, Thai’s best prospects for ice dancing, wanted to switch coaches. Once it had actually been his birthday, and Phichit had hired an expat to cook for him.

This wasn’t so dramatic. Dinner was nice. A bottle of wine that had once been Celestino’s favorite vintage. A roast Phichit liked to cook, chicken with apples and honey and warm spices. A Thai-American hybrid from their days in Detroit. Only Phichit could have pulled it off, Celestino thought. He was good at making disparate things work together. 

Whatever had thrown his student off earlier in the week still seemed to be eating at him, and Celestino was starting to get concerned. Worlds were creeping closer every day, and no amount of creativity could make you land a quad you kept overrotating.

Still, he let Phichit take the lead at dinner, talking about his family, asking after Celestino’s mother and sister. “You said you’d bring them here,” Phichit said. “I still haven’t met them.”

“Win me a gold, and we’ll talk,” Celestino teased, and Phichit’s face shadowed again. He gave up and put his fork down. “Are you planning on telling me what’s wrong tonight?” he asked. “Or do I have to keep guessing?”

“I--yeah,” Phichit said. “Okay.” He got up, pushing his chair back, and walked toward his bedroom. He came out with a cardboard box. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said. “I figured they were routines. Maybe a home movie or two. But--I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

It took Celestino a second to recognize it, but the tapes were immediately familiar. The dates, his handwriting--

He'd been careful for a long time. He probably should have thrown the tapes away but--

No. He didn't want to be ashamed of it, of any of it. Even if his heart _was_ pounding. "Okay," he said. "Can I have them back?"

"Of course," Phichit said. "I'm really sorry. I didn't--I did it all at once, and I figured they were skating routines."

"How many did you watch?" Celestino said.

"More than one?" He was _blushing._ Damn. That was...that was something, all right. Phichit shifted a little in his seat. "If you want the digital files too..."

"It was...I understand how you could have--misinterpreted what they were," he said. "It was--" _You're a sweet kid,_ he wanted to say, but it didn't seem appropriate in the context of talking about his sex tapes. "I probably should have labeled them differently, but--I hadn't thought about them in years, honestly. It was a long time ago."

"I don't want you to be--embarrassed? I just...I wanted you to know. That I knew. And--like I said, if you want the files, they're...I just did it all in a batch."

"Just tell me it's not in the cloud."

Phichit grinned at him, his familiar, bright smile, even through the uncharacteristic worry. "Not a chance."

He hadn't remembered he'd kept that many of the tapes. There must have been hours. Fabio and Pascal and Jonathan and Frank, mostly...there had been women, but they’d had to be more careful, and he’d gotten out of the habit of asking. Memories from before he was married, before he'd been worried about being careful. Before Twitter and the cloud, for that matter. "I should probably get rid of them."

Phichit shrugged. "If they make you happy, you should keep them. Digital stuff degrades, after a while."

He'd hardly even watched them. He'd just liked knowing they were there, that he could watch them again, whenever he wanted to. That the door to his past wasn’t totally closed.

"You're...really big," Phichit said, interrupting his thoughts. "Like...really big."

It took Celestino a second to realize Phichit wasn't talking about his build. Or his hands. "Phichit?"

"Yeah," Phichit said. He was looking at the table. Phichit was normally so confident. It wasn't like him to be uncertain. Then again...this was uncharted territory, wasn't it? "I keep thinking about--about you."

"I'm your coach," Celestino said, because he realized that that was the only thing stopping him from saying _really?_

"I know," he said. "I thought a lot about that, too."

This was why Phichit had insisted on cooking dinner here. They were alone this way. He could drop off the tapes without anyone knowing. Celestino could take them home and they could pretend none of it ever happened. Or Celestino could make a scene and leave. Or--

Or he could make another choice.

He looked over at Phichit, his favorite student since the moment they’d met. Phichit and his dark skin and sinfully dark eyes and the smile that killed him every time. Phichit who had been thinking about him. Phichit who had watched _more than one_ of the tapes.

Phichit took a flash drive out of his pocket and put it on the table. "All your tapes are there, if you want them. And...there's some of mine. If you want."

Celestino's mouth was dry. "Do you want me to?"

Phichit nodded. "There's...I asked Yuuri and he said it was okay. And Chris, I mean, you know Chris. There's another guy on one of them. I never got his name. But--I trust you."

Yuuri and Chris. And _I trust you._ Celestino reached out his hand and slowly wrapped his fingers around the memory stick. "Thank you," he said. "For trusting me."

"Of course," Phichit said. “If you want to be mad, I understand, or we can forget this ever happened, or--”

“What do you want?” Celestino asked. That was the lesson he’d learned from Yuuri, after Yuuri had left. That he could ask, and listen to the answer.

“A lot of things?” he said, his voice close to shaky. “But...I want you to watch them. First.”

“All right,” he said.

 

He went home and watched. Phichit was beautiful, somehow more beautiful than the fantasies Celestino never quite allowed himself to have. He _laughed_ in bed, energetic, enthusiastic, and a little bit of who Celestino used to be ached to laugh in bed again. Thailand hadn’t been a dry spell, exactly, but it wasn't as free or as fun as it had felt in the old days. It certainly didn't have the bright, unfettered happiness of Phichit Chulanont grinning into the screen and saying, "now, you've seen bigger dicks than this, but not many. Who says Asian guys can't pack heat, right?" as he turned the lens toward his mortified roommate.

"Phichit-kun!"

"You're hot," he said. "Come on, show off."

He stopped the video and tried to breathe.

He read the email from Phichit again; it'd been waiting for him when he got back to his apartment.

_I like things as they are now. I want you. But I'll live without that. You're a good coach. I think we're friends?_

_You're handsome and you're kind and I've always liked you. I think you know that. I didn't think about you like that until the videos. I think I can pretend I don't think that way now if you want me to. I don't want to, though._

_I want you to come home to me and I want to be the person you come home to. I want to make new videos with you. And watch videos you make with other people, if you still want to do that. I want you to watch mine. I want to watch you touch yourself. I want to kiss you more than anything._

Celestino was hard, brutally, painfully hard. _To hell with this._ He opened up the video again. 

"Phichit-kun," Yuuri said, onscreen. Was he drunk? Or was he just...unguarded? "I'm not that--"

"You're beautiful," Phichit said, and he _was_ drunk; Celestino knew from his unsteady voice, the tiny hint of mania in his laugh. "Come on, show the camera how pretty you are."

"You too, then," Yuuri said, and then they were both on screen, both naked, younger and slimmer and...Phichit wouldn't have given him anything _illegal,_ would he?

Who was he kidding? He wasn't going to stop now. Not when he was watching them kiss, open-mouthed and eager, Phichit's hands sliding across Yuuri's body, resting on his hips. "Look at you," Phichit said, and Celestino was looking, but Phichit was the one who kept drawing his eye, his dark skin and eager hands.

He unzipped his pants. 

 

Rest day would have been more restful if Phichit had slept the night before. He'd given Celestino the tapes and the digital files the night before for a reason, but he still hadn't realized how raw he'd feel afterward. He'd talked to Yuuri for an hour about nothing, carefully avoiding the tapes, which had helped a little. Victor had shoved onto the screen at one point and asked about a musical piece he was thinking of skating an exhibition program to, which was probably a total lie, but it let Phichit talk for a while about "The Music Man" and the greater nuances of "Trouble in River City." It got his mind off things.

He knew he had actually slept a little, because his alarm woke him up. He groaned and got out of bed, took a shower and threw on a fresh pair of boxers. He made sure the hamsters had enough water and gave them some fresh cauliflower for a treat. He poached some eggs for himself and dropped them into his morning joke. Nothing much had happened on Insta--perils of the off-season--though Yuri Plisetsky had a really cute picture of his cat up.

He was scrolling in something of a daze when the phone buzzed. _Are you awake?_

Ciao Ciao. _Yeah._

_Can I come over?_

_Sure._ Phichit swallowed, and realized that he'd better put some clothes on. He spent way too long looking in his closet for something that looked right. What did you wear the morning after you told your coach you wanted to fuck him? He settled for a plain black t-shirt and some running pants.

Celestino lived about twenty minutes away; he'd killed ten of them trying to choose his clothes. He finished his breakfast and checked in on the hamsters. They were fine. They were always fine, which was good, but--

He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. Half-hard, half-anxious. It wasn't something you'd want to talk about on the phone, but waiting was killing him. 

Celestino took twenty-two minutes. When Phichit opened the door to him, he recognized the dark circles under his coach's eyes. "Long night?"

Celestino smiled, wry.

Phichit stepped back and let him in. 

Celestino closed the door behind him, looked at Phichit. "It's been an honor, being your coach," he said. "I--" He sighed. "I don't know if I should stay your coach."

Fuck. _Fuck._ "I understand," he said. "I didn't want to--change anything between us. But--"

Celestino pulled his hair out of its ponytail and shook it loose. "Come here?"

Phichit's heart stopped.

"Unless you--"

Phichit leapt.

Celestino staggered a bit, but caught him, pulling Phichit's weight into his, cupping his ass. Phichit kissed him, put his hands into Celestino's hair, thick and soft. Celestino was warm, and his t-shirt was soft, too, and his mouth was--

Fuck, he could _kiss,_ and Phichit was taking age and experience over youth and enthusiasm every fucking time from now on, hot damn. He wanted to eat Celestino alive. Or at least--

His _cock,_ that huge cock. Phichit's to suck and jerk and ride on. Phichit couldn't quite believe it. "Bed?” 

Celestino carried him into his bedroom. Phichit had half a second to regret not making the bed before he was on it, pulling the sheets back, pulling his own t-shirt off, his skin too hot, Celestino too close. Celestino pressed his lips to Phichit's shoulder, let his fingers ghost along Phichit's ribcage. _"Bello,"_ he whispered into Phichit's collarbone. "Always so beautiful--you're lucky I can get it up at all after last night, what you did to me. I was coming dry by the end."

Phichit's cock twitched in his sweatpants. "You watched them?"

"All of them," he said. "I couldn't stop myself."

Phichit's skin was electrified, buzzing. "I didn't want you to." He reached for Celestino's pants, and _shit,_ he wasn't wearing underwear and he smelled like soap and aftershave and his hair was damp against Phichit's fingers, and it was too much and it was everything he'd fantasized about, only better. Celestino's hands were so _big,_ but it was nothing compared to his cock, his _giant fucking cock,_ already slick with precome at the tip. "Shit," he said. He'd seen it on video, but it was nothing compared to what it looked like in person, and fuck you, Katsuki, _shrinkage as you get older my ass._

Celestino was cupping his ass again, actually. It felt really, really good.

"Do you want--?"

Celestino shook his head. "I'm just along for the ride," he said. "What do you want?"

Phichit licked his lips. "Let's--we're wearing too much."

"I agree," Celestino said, and slid his hands down into Phichit's pants and boxers, pulling the fabric down by sliding his palms against Phichit's thighs. Phichit wiggled out of the rest, then helped Celestino pull his sweatpants off. 

Celestino still had plenty of hair on his chest, though it was starting to gray in places. Treasure trail past his navel, to his abdomen. Thick hair on his pelvis, leading to his cock. Shit. Phichit just wanted to watch him. And touch him. And suck him off. And get fucked into the mattress. _Pick one,_ he thought to himself. 

Celestino's hands were on his waist. He was going to have to move soon, _needed_ to move. Needed to feel Celestino underneath him--

Yes. That was it. He straddled Celestino's thighs--skater's thighs still, muscular, strong--and squeezed. Celestino moaned. Phichit _moved,_ shifting his weight until his cock was against Celestino's, foreskin on foreskin, hot, hard, good. 

Celestino hissed in breath, his hands sliding down back to cup Phichit's ass again. Part of Phichit filed that information for later; the rest of him was focused on moving, rutting against Celestino, too overwhelmed to even think about using his hands. He needed them to keep his balance, keep him from losing his mind.

Their cocks were doing all right anyway, both of them slick, and the motion wasn't elegant or smooth but it felt good, right, not enough to get either of them off yet, but enough to feel really, really good. 

Celestino's eyes were closed, his hair fanning out over Phichit's pillow. Phichit could see the little bit of gray that was at the roots, not a lot, but visible when they were this close. He was balanced a little better now, enough to try moving his hand, to stroke Celestino’s hair--fuck, _fuck_ his hair was soft--and watch Celestino turn his face into the touch.

"You can pull," Celestino said. "If you want. Not hard, but--"

Phichit curled his fingers into Celestino's hair. _Shit._ He tugged a little, gently, and Celestino moaned again, so deep that Phichit could feel the vibrations down in his thighs.

Celestino shifted a little underneath him; Phichit realized almost too late he was reaching between them, wrapping their cocks together in his broad, strong hand. Now it was Phichit's turn to gasp, close his eyes, try to keep his hips steady. Celestino was so _hard,_ whatever he'd said earlier. He tipped his head, pulling against Phichit's grip. Fuck. _Fuck._

Phichit had thought and fantasized and _wanted,_ but it hadn't been like this. It hadn't been Celestino's cologne, the sound of his breathing, the soft, soft skin of Celestino's foreskin. Celestino's free hand caught the back of Phichit's head, pulled him down, pressed their lips together again. He pushed his tongue into Phichit's mouth, and Phichit moaned, trying to encourage him. Wanting. _Wanting._

He was close, so close, but he didn't want to stop, didn't want--

"Go ahead," Celestino said, "come for me. I want to feel you--"

 _Fuck,_ that was enough to have him spilling in Celestino's hand, dropping down and panting against his shoulder, his hand clenching and unclenching in Celestino's hair. 

Celestino murmured in his ear in Italian; _bello, bello,_ a handful of words he couldn't recognize. "You're going to kill me," he said, but he didn't sound very upset about it.

"Let me--" Phichit said. 

"Later," Celestino said. "I told you, you're lucky I can get it up at all." He kissed the side of Phichit's cheek. "That is...assuming you're good for another round."

"I'm good," Phichit said, realizing how tightly his hand was wound into Celestino's hair and letting go. "Shit--did I pull too hard?"

"No," Celestino said. "No...that was fine." He was still so hard. How could he stand it? "I was planning on sitting down with you, you know. Talking about what you wanted. What we both wanted." His free hand stroked Phichit's back. "I'd claim I used to be better at this, but I really wasn't."

"I don't mind," he said. "You--you kind of know what I want, I think." Shit, he was getting sticky. "Just stay there, I'll get--"

Celestino's hand lingered on his back as he got up and headed for the washroom. When he came back with a washcloth, Celestino was sitting up on the bed. His hair was loose around his shoulders. He let Phichit wash them both off, then pulled Phichit in for a kiss. Phichit was half-hard again already. "You're all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," he said, sliding into Celestino's arms. "I'm--I'm really good."

"I'm still not sure I should be doing this."

"Too late." Phichit grinned in spite of himself. "And I don't--I'm not going to regret this, okay?"

"Okay," Celestino said, and kissed the top of his head. "But--we still need to talk."

"Yeah, I know." He closed his eyes. "Can we just--for now, can I just--"

"Yes," Celestino said. “Of course."

"So when did you start dying your hair?"

Celestino laughed. "More than a decade ago. The gray came in early. I wouldn't have minded but it came in streaks, and--it probably wouldn't be streaked now, but I'm in the habit, and I had all these younger students around me I wanted to impress."

"Did you," Phichit said, snuggling in a little closer.

"I didn't--" He sighed. "It wasn't like that. Not for a long time."

"It's all right."

"It's _not,"_ Celestino said sharply. "You were my student. You weren't even old enough to vote. I didn't--I realize now how hard I worked to not be attracted to you, as you got older. But I did. I wouldn't have--"

"We weren't supposed to be talking about this," Phichit said.

"It's important," he said. "I can't--I couldn't live with myself, if I thought--"

"I don't," he said. "I wouldn't. I've always trusted you. I’m just...glad you decided to try.”

"You're an avalanche," Celestino said. "I didn't have any other choice." 

Phichit opened his eyes and kissed him again. It was nice, kissing Celestino. Really, really nice. And Celestino was still so _hard--_ "Can I suck you off? I know you said you wanted--" 

"Like I could say no to you," Celestino said, and let Phichit kiss his way down his chest, past the hair, the muscles there, down to his navel. Celestino moaned as he licked down his abdomen, and one of his hands lit in Phichit's hair.

Oh, he was _huge._ Phichit's mouth watered at the sight. "You can pull my hair, if you want,” he said. “You don't--you don't have to go easy. I--" He licked his lips. "Go ahead. I like it."

Celestino swallowed. "You...if you kill me, know I died happy." His hands slid into Phichit's hair, gripped. Yeah, that was good. 

Phichit laughed a little, and licked the tip of Celestino's cock, teased at the slit. 

Celestino groaned, and his hands tightened a little further in Phichit's hair. "You're--you don't--" Celestino hissed in air. His hips slid a little forward. "This is...this is good. You don't have to--take--take all of it."

Phichit smiled. "Sounds like a challenge." Fuck, he was big, though. Glorious. Almost too much to fit in his mouth. But only almost.

 _"Phichit,"_ Celestino stuttered. "You--" 

Phichit took him further in, and Celestino's words turned into gasps and stutters. His hands tightened and loosened in Phichit's hair as Phichit worked Celestino with his mouth. There was _so much_ of him, and it was _so good._

_I don't want you to ever stop touching me,_ Phichit thought, and at some point he'd gotten hard again. His mind started running through everything he'd wanted to do, the things he'd told Celestino, and the things he'd been too afraid to tell anyone--

Celestino came in a wet, hot rush, and he tried to pull back, but Phichit stayed where he was, sucked and swallowed, the salt taste on his tongue both familiar and new. Every guy was different, but he always kind of loved the taste, and there wasn’t that much anyway. Celestino pulled him up so they were face to face again, kissed his come out of Phichit's mouth, wrapped his big hand around Phichit's cock and jerked him fast and rough. Phichit writhed against him, kissed him, came and came and came in Celestino's hand.

"You're so beautiful," Celestino whispered against his ear, like it was a secret, just for them. "I wish I could show you off."

"When I retire," he said. He slid a hand against Celestino's thigh. "Maybe we could go out sometimes. You could be my wingman. Help me pick who to take home. Or I can pick someone for you to take home..."

Celestino groaned. "You're perfect," he said. "Perfect."

"It's going to be good," Phichit said. "So good. I promise." He kissed Celestino again, just a peck on the lips this time. 

"We need...ground rules," Celestino said. "And you have to consider your career."

"I know," Phichit said. "But...it's a start, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Celestino said. "Unless it's to wash up."

"Good," he said. "Because you’re exactly where I want you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Phichit didn't give him anything illegal, promise.


End file.
